


heavy is the crown

by amuk



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 14:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16914381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: Emmeryn was ten when she was given a blood-stained throne and a weight heavier than any child ought to bear. Chrom was eighteen when he was given a war he never wanted. Lucina was ten when she was given a bloody crown. The hardest burden was the one they weren’t ready for.





	heavy is the crown

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this piece for the “Open your eyes” and then realized it was not an AU. XD So I wrote something else.

 

Emmeryn was ten when she was given a blood-stained throne and a weight heavier than any child ought to bear.

 

No, that was not correct. She was not yet ten and she was no longer a child. She was Exalt. Her coronation was one of pomp and glory, an attempt to rally the people one last time into battle. It took all of her strength to not throw up as she was paraded up and down the street.

 

 _A symbol of our continued strength_ , the lords called her. _A sign that that we will not fall._

 

The lords were not on the streets with her. The lords did not see her citizens’ angry, worn expressions, the snarls on their faces as they decried her father’s war. Enraged fists shook in the air, their voices echoing like thunder. There was nowhere to hide as she sat in an open-air carriage, nowhere to turn to. What did they care that she had as little choice as they did? No, their judgement was as swift and sharp as the words hurled from their mouths. Alone, she faced her people.

 

And alone, she faced her royal court and their predatory gaze. The wooden throne engulfed her, her feet barely able to reach the floor. Even her ceremonial clothes didn’t feel right and she drowned in lace and silk. With each movement, she could feel a hundred eyes on her, silently pressuring her. Her voice echoed feebly through the great hall, “Next.”

 

“Your Highness.” An advisor walked forward, tall and erect. He had a fox’s sly smile as he bowed, deep and formal. “How shall we manage our war with Plegia?”

 

Plegia. The kingdom that her father had waged war with most of her life. Emmeryn swallowed. The court was watching her now. “What would you recommend?”

 

His smile grew wider. “A renewal of troops. A drive to recruit more, as we are on the verge of victory.”

 

They were always on the verge of victory. Her voice wavered. “Our people can’t take anymore.”

 

Sensing her weakness, he pushed on. His expression grew solemn, a rueful shake of the head as he considered her words. “Our people are brave. We shall avenge our loss.”

 

It was a farce, she knew. Even this show at sorrow. The court gave up nothing, only an exalt who did not know when to stop. The people were the one who forfeited everything, whose children disappeared and homes were ransacked. If anything, the court had gained a puppet exalt, as they called her behind her back. They jostled for her favour, for the chance to rule in her stead, and it would be easy to let them do so.

 

What did she know of politics, of ruling? She was a child who hadn’t yet finished her education.

 

“Emm!” A soft whisper. Turning slightly, she spotted her siblings in the wings of the hall. Hidden in the shadows, Chrom was watching her eagerly, his tiny hands clutching baby Lissa. He was smiling, hopping as he tried to wave at her and balance his sister at the same time. “Look what I can do!”

 

At four he barely understood that he was an orphan, let alone the war they had to clean up. A toy sword hung at his hips and for a moment, she could see the future he was running toward. The future Lissa would grow into, never knowing even a single day of peace. Emmeryn’s lips curled in disgust and she turned back to the advisor. He was watching her apprehensively, a ready lie on his lips.

 

She could not trust him. She could not trust any of them. Like vipers, they were all waiting to bite. Firmly, she rejected his offer. “No, we will petition for peace. Remove our troops.”

 

The court twittered, their whispers a snake running through the grass. It was an unexpected move, the puppet cutting its strings.

 

Taken aback, the advisor stared at her for a moment before recovering. Smoothly, he responded, “That is a child’s request, your majesty. Peace is not possible now.” Honey dripped from his words. “Allow me to prepare plans.”

 

“No, we will bring peace. We will end this war.” Emmeryn gripped the edges of her throne. Whatever fear she had, she could not show it now. “And I am no longer a child, but your exalt.”

 

Let the hate end with her. Let the wooden sword be all her brother had to wield. Her family would not inherit what she did.

 

-x-

 

Chrom was eighteen when he was given a war he never wanted. His sister died to protect peace, a level of courage that he feared he didn’t have. It was harder, he realized now, to ask for peace than it was to fight a battle. To save people who did not want to be saved, to rebuild what was destroyed.

 

He was reminded once more of just how wise his sister was. Had been. They did not have a body to bury and he knew part of himself was still in the desert, reaching out to catch her. Lissa was still grieving and he wished he could do the same.

 

Yet their kingdom was still at verge of war, despite defeating the mad king. Plegia was on the brink of civil war, with lords who wanted vengeance and people who wanted to nothing more than to rest. Ylisse was in need of rebuilding and Chrom wished he had ten of him in order to run it all. He was no policy maker, no expert at running a camp let alone a country.

 

“Chrom?” Robin peeked into his tent. In her arms were a series of scrolls and Chrom couldn’t hide the grimace on his face. “Oh come on now, they won’t bite.”

 

“I’d almost prefer that.” He cleared the side of his table for the latest documents. The other thing he hadn’t expected after becoming Exalt—the amount of paperwork. How did their kingdom have so much paper in the first place? “What now?”

 

“Cities to the west we have to rebuild.” Robin laughed mirthlessly. They’d been receiving endless requests for reconstruction. She plucked one scroll and unfurled it, revealing a map. “It never ends, does it?”

 

“No, I suppose not.” Chrom sighed and leaned forward to examine the map. Red circles dotted smaller regions. “The border there is really unsafe. We’ll have to increase the number of patrols.”

 

“Or we could just send Frederick.” Robin grinned. “Send him there for a week or two, guarantee no one will try to invade.”

 

Chrom’s shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh. “No.”

 

Sensing a weak point, she went for the kill. “Then you could just send his jerky. Guarantee they’ll realize they can’t harm us any worse than we’re harming ourselves.”

 

It was too much and he broke. Laughing, he lightly punched her shoulder. “Don’t tell him that, you know he’ll do it.”

 

“If you say so.” Robin shrugged. “We have the jerky if you change your mind.”

 

He broke into a fresh burst of laughter. She truly was a tactician, even their conversations went her way more often than not. Hell, he wasn’t certain if half his decisions were his or just her wrestling him to her opinion. Chrom wiped his eyes as he calmed down. Noticing her stare, he raised a brow. “What?”

 

“It’s been a while since I heard that.” Robin rubbed her arm, looking away uncomfortably. “Since…well, since Emmeryn died.”

 

Died. The words didn’t feel anymore real now, weeks later. Despite Gangrel’s taunts, he didn’t have the body either. Chrom should have been faster then. Smarter. Wiser. His hands had reached out and grabbed nothing.

 

Now he had to grab scrolls and papers, create the kingdom his sister had wanted. Chrom gritted his teeth, his hands curling into a fist.

 

“Don’t.” Robin’s words surprised him and he looked up. She stepped in front of him, reaching down to grab his hand. Gently, she uncurled his fist. Her hands clasped his. “Don’t forget you have us to help you. You’re not alone.”

 

Chrom stared down at their joined hands. At the paperwork behind him, at the supplies he had to distribute and the priorities he had to set.  It was true. Cordelia and Frederick ran the camp, Robin ran the war, and he was a fool to think this had to go any differently.

 

Unlike his sister, he did not have to rule alone.

 

“You’re right.” He covered her hands with his free one. Her warmth seeped through. Chrom remembered grabbing her hand for the first time, pulling her up from the earth.

 

It was funny to think she was pulling him up now.

 

“I usually am.” She smirked up at him.

 

“Right, right.” He bent forward, resting his forehead on hers. “Thank you.”

 

Her eyes widened a fraction before relaxing. “It’s nothing. Besides, if anything goes wrong, we still have Frederick’s jerky.”

 

Chrom laughed. The future looked promising and bright.

-x-

 

Lucina was ten when she was given a bloody crown. There was no coronation, no fanfare. Just a simple setting of the crown, an ancient dragon watching her with sad eyes as Lucina kneeled in front of her. The thin metal was heavier than she expected. There was no throne to sit on here, no castle to command. Despite not having the trappings of royalty, the circlet felt more constrictive than rope.  

 

“You have no country to rule,” Tiki murmured, her hands trembling as she let helped her stand.

 

That was a lie. She did have a country—a country of ash and fire, a country of ruin and destruction. Her country just had a second ruler, a dragon that killed all that it touched.

 

“I will still protect it.” Lucina smiled, her words far braver than she felt. She clutched her father’s sword, feeling a lot older than she was. Her lessons were incomplete, her skill lacking, and still she had to save her scattered people.

 

“I’ll help!” Cynthia piped in, her expression belying her shaking knees. Her spear looked far too big for her height, but Lucina wasn’t one to talk.

 

“Look a little more solemn,” Severa growled, frowning heavily. Her eyes darted to and fro the sanctuary, waiting for the first sign of danger. “This is still a coronation.”

 

There was something calming about the exchange. The normalcy of it. Lucina took a deep breath and resisted the urge to laugh.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Cynthia rolled her eyes. Ignoring Severa’s squawks of protest, she strolled forward and grabbed Lucina’s hands. Her grin was infectious. “Don’t worry, you have the Justice Cabal and Gerome and Inigo and—”

 

“You don’t need to say a list of everyone’s names,” Severa cut in, crossing her arms. Despite her gruff voice, Lucina spotted a hint of approval in her expression. “She knows who we are.”

 

“—and Severa, even if she won’t admit it,” Cynthia finished, laughing when Severa grumbled but didn’t object. “We can do this together.”

 

It was a simple truth when she put it like that. A fact that Lucina knew was anything but one. She could almost believe it, almost see their triumph. She had heard enough stories of before to imagine what peace could look like. Yet that was all it was, imaginary. Lucina had lost too many people to Grima to think otherwise. They might not be able to do this at all, let alone together.

 

“Right,” she agreed, squeezing Cynthia’s hands back. She was Exalt now, and her worries and council she’d keep to herself. “We can do this.”

 

Lucina had heard stories of her aunt Emm, of her mandate for peace in a war-torn nation. Of her father’s quest to carry out her wishes, of his strength in rebuilding a land that was almost lost. She had inherited a great legacy. In another life, she would have added to it, grown it. Perhaps have even had children to continue to family line.

 

In this one, it was a legacy she could not contribute to. In this life, there was Grima and there was only one path left to her: bloodshed and war.


End file.
